A/N: I wrote this after watching the final episode of Cowboy Bebop, so
don't be surprised if it comes off as rather metaphorical, even if not
always obviously so. Was kind of a strange piece for me to do.

"Make It Superficial"

Foundation first, then concealer- not too much, I don't need it. I'm not
trying to brag, just stating fact. Little bit of blush, but very light.
I'm so pale that my cheeks look garish if I use too much. Dark lipstick-
the deepest red I could find and enough to put blood itself to shame. A
strange reference, but I have morbid tendencies. Lastly, the eyes. My
favorite, and I obsess over this part.

The eyes are, after all, the windows to the soul.

Dark purple on my eyelids, really half-blue if you look at it too long, and
around each eye, thick black liner and mascara heavy enough to blind anyone
to my true nature- or myself to my surroundings if I'm not careful. It
took a while to master that trick without getting my eyes glued shut. A
LONG while. In the end, though, it was worth it to see through the eyes it
gave me.

I give myself a last inspection in the mirror; then quietly return all my
make-up to my purse and leave the bathroom. You are outside and you stare
at me in utter bemusement. I straighten to my full height- I'm so much
taller than you, especially in stiletto heels, but you were always dominant
in our friendship.

I wonder, what do you think of me now?

A single complete turn, and then I face you again, and you are completely
stunned. Whether it is in a positive way or a negative one remains to be
seen. A long moment passes and I try to meet your eyes.

"Well?" I ask softly when I finally do. "Is this better?"

You give me the strangest look that anyone ever has. "Better than what?"
you ask in confusion.

"Than her," I say quietly.

You don't answer; just give me that strange look again. Resigned, I turn
on my heel and retreat to the bathroom, careful to shut the door behind me.
I once again inspect the girl in the mirror. She is beautiful- I know
this because I created her. Full, pouting lips painted a luscious wet
color; hair combed until it is as thin and shining as silk thread, and
large, dark eyes that make hearts break.

I turn the tap on and methodically scour every last trace of cosmetics from
my face. When I look up at it again, I am myself, though with my face
dripping and slightly reddened from scrubbing.

Yet my expression remains unchanged.

"Ken," you call through the door, knocking lightly. "Ken, are you
alright?"

I suddenly feel very plain.

* finale *

"Magic Is In The Make-Up"

Can you tell I'm faking it?

But I want to be myself

A counterfeit disposition

Can't be good for my health

So many different faces

Depending on the different phases

My personality changes

I'm a chameleon

There's more than one dimension

I can fool you and attract attention

Camouflage my nature

Let me demonstrate . . .

Make-up's all off

Who am I?

Magic's in the make-up

Who am I?

If you bore me then I'm comfortable

If you interest me I'm scared

My attraction paralyzes me

No courage to show my true colors that exist

But I want to be the real thing

But if you catch my eye can't be authentic

The ones I loathe are the ones that know me the best

My make-up's all off

Who am I?

The magic's in the make-up

Who am I?

The make-up's all off

Who am I?

If the magic's in the make-up

Then who am I?

Magic's in the make-up

But I want to be the real thing

But the magic's in the make-up

And I want to be the real thing

My make-up's all off

Who am I?

~No Doubt

* ende *

. : see you, space cowboy . . . : .

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